Here I am, arriving home, exhausted from running many miles, packing and moving for several hours – absolutely too tired to figure out what to do with myself. Not sure if I am hungry but aware of what feels like an enormous hole in the region of my stomach.
I crawled up the stairs towards the sound of a TV, knowing I’d find company and comfort. Recognizing my most immediate problem, Danielle offered to make me a plate of food… pointing out my secondary problem – you ran a half marathon and you haven’t showered? I lay in a pile on the floor next to her.
I was a captive audience.
Several hours later, I was addicted.
Most of you know that I don’t own a TV. You’ve noticed that there is a gaping void in my knowledge of pop culture. I shy away from series, movies and everything in between. I know you think I’m crazy.
I am not above these glowing boxes. I’m really not.
They captivate me. I am a bug to a bright light on a dark night.
So between my inability to tear my eyes away from the blinking lights, the ease with which I find myself enthralled by imagery and the frenetic energy that stirs up within me when television becomes THE background noise in an already noisy room, I have opted to remain TV free.
Back to the story at hand, as I slowly shoveled a plate of delicious and thankfully healthy food into my mouth, I stared blankly at the television which on this rainy night was featuring Twilight.
Several hours later, I fell asleep with images of the beautiful PNW swimming in my head (sigh, and incredibly attractive people existing in a perpetual state of sexual tension, just trying to be transparent here).
And now I will read the books. I will watch all the movies despite my thorough irritation over subpar character development and an unapologetically and inexcusably weak female protagonist.
It was a slippery slide and I am about to fall off the end on my ass.
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